Red Dust
by darkergrey
Summary: Agent Darcy's shot missed Wainwright in The Crimson Hat. Nevertheless, the FBI is taken off the case and High Command decides to bring in the CIA. While the entire team tries to adapt to the new situation and get back to work, Red John develops the plan meant to be their downfall. Pairings: Luther Wainwright/OC, Jane/Lisbon, Rigsby/van Pelt
1. Unsustainable

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the original characters I created.

Rating: T (will change to M)

Summary: Agent Darcy's shot missed Wainwright in The Crimson Hat. Nevertheless, the FBI is taken off the case and High Command decides to bring in the CIA. While the entire team tries to adapt to the new situation and get back to work, Red John develops the plan meant to be their downfall.

Pairings: Luther Wainwright/OC, Jane/Lisbon, Rigsby/van Pelt

Author's Note: Alright, I admit I'm sick of it. A new boss each season? Now, really.

**Red Dust **

_Traveller, your footprints are_

_The only path, the only track:_

_Wayfarer, there is no way,_

_There is no map or Northern star,_

_Just a blank page and a starless dark;_

_And should you turn round to admire_

_The distance that you've made today_

_The road will billow into dust._

_No way on and no way back,_

_There is no way, my comrade: trust_

_Your own quick step, the end's deadly,_

_The vanished trail of your own wake,_

_Wayfarer, sea-walker, Christ._

_(Road - Don Paterson)  
_

**Chapter One: Unsustainable**

Special agent Darcy's hands shake as she frees Wainwright from the duct tape. Her shots have missed him only by inches, judging by the bullet holes in the window and she knows, she just knows, this is the end of her career. She couldn't have known, of course. Couldn't have known she was firing at the chief of the CBI, but that won't help her a bit. Sure, she caught the woman, Lorelei Martins, but that won't help her, either. They will say she has misjudged the situation. They will say she has a personal grudge against Patrick Jane. They will say it's her fault Red John has escaped. Again.

Wainwright's hands are free. He wriggles her off and she steps back from the car, turns around as he rips the rest of the tape off his mouth. The sun is burning down. The asphalt is glimmering. A little bit afar, she spots Teresa Lisbon and Patrick Jane, sitting in the sand. She knows she should apologize.

To Wainwright. To Lisbon. Even to Jane. But she can't.

Agent Cho approaches the limousine. He talks to Wainwright. Asks him if he's alright. She should have done that, too.

_So many things on the list. So many things._

Her feet start to move, away from the car, away from her team, away from the scenery. To the desert. Nothing left but sand and heat and regret and silence.

Silence… Yes. Silence is all she needs. Take a rest from the sirens. From the shots. From the conversations.

"Special agent Darcy!"

She stops by the sound of her name. The cowardly part of her personality wants to just move on, but she doesn't give in. She never gives in.

_Inhale_.

Slowly, she turns around and spots Agent Davington running over to her, his phone in his hand.

Her feet demand motion.

_Exhale._

She focuses her eyes on the desert and thinks, after all, it's just an accumulation of yellow dust. "Special agent Darcy, the director", Davington says as he reaches her.

_Inhale. _

Slowly, she turns towards him and takes the phone out of his hand. There's another split second wasted for hesitation, before she raises the phone to her ear.

"Director", she says and thinks, at least, she can try and keep her dignity.

* * *

_CBI Headquarter, Sacramento_

Patrick Jane leaves the interrogation room, his fingers playing with the little coin he always keeps in his pockets. It helps him think, focusing his hands on the solid material, while his mind is set on Lorelei Martins. Lorelei Martins and Red John.

He walks into the kitchen and brews himself a cup of tea. Lorelei Martins will talk. He is sure of that. All it takes is time. She needs Red John. She needs his instructions. Without them, she is like a child, insecure, frightened. Alone.

She can't stand the loneliness.

He turns around and walks slowly into the office, where the rest of the team is assembled.

He takes a sip of the tea and looks at them. "You look disappointed."

He gains all the attention, immediately. Cho raises an eyebrow. "Does that surprise you?" he asks.

"Yes. Yes, it does."

"We just lost Red John, again. What shall we do? Celebrate?" Lisbon asks, her voice edgy.

He looks at her and is surprised she holds his gaze. After all Lorelei has said, he expected her to… more furious. Furious because he hasn't told her the whole story, again. Maybe even a little bit jealous. His actions haven't really improved their friendship.

"But we got Lorelei", he says.

"Who isn't talking a bit", she states.

"Oh, she will talk. Sooner or later, she will talk."

He walks over to the couch and sits down, as a familiar voice steps in.

"I'm afraid it's not that easy."

A small grin sneaks onto his lips as he looks up. "Agent Wainwright", he says carelessly and puts the teabag carefully on the plate. "Already out of the hospital?"

"Er… Yes. Released myself", the man says, hands at his belt.

He looks at him shortly. The duct tape has left red marks on his skin, but otherwise, he appears as kooky as ever. Protection measures. He has figured him out some time ago.

"With all due respect, sir, that wasn't necessary. We can handle the situation…" Lisbon starts, but he interrupts her quickly.

"Ah, he hasn't been hurt. Thanks god agent Darcy isn't much of a sniper."

Van Pelt shots him a glance, but he winks at it. "I suppose you don't remember anything about your abduction, do you?" he continues.

Wainwright hesitates, then shakes his head. "No. No. All I remember is I opened my car. The rest is all a bit of a blur. But maybe, the memory will come back as soon as the concussion…"

"No it won't", he says. "Lucky you. Red John would get rid of you as soon as possible if it did."

"Jane", Lisbon hisses and he raises his hands in defense.

"Sorry. You wanted to say something about Lorelei Martins?"

"Yes. I just received a call from the attorney general. He wants to imprison her as soon as possible, so his men can start to interrogate her."

"Idiots", he says quietly and puts the teacup on the plate. "As if she would talk to them."

Wainwright looks at him sharply. "She isn't talking to us, either, is she? Besides, do you even realize the scandal you caused with your solitude?"

"Weird. I thought it was the FBI who messed everything up."

"We all messed up. All. Bertram is trying to sort everything out with the FBI, so we don't look like a bunch of kindergarten kids fighting over a bar of chocolate."

"Nice euphemism", van Pelt mutters and he smiles at her.

Van Pelt. Always trying to keep up appearance, but woe betide anyone who lets her loose.

"Anyways, Lorelei Martins will be imprisoned and there's nothing we can do about it. The attorney general has demanded no one of the CBI, or the FBI, interrogates her so there won't be any rivalry."

"Nonsense. As if the FBI isn't pissed already", Rigsby mutters.

Wainwright looks at him, his expression astonished. Rigsby seldom contradicts. "Of course they are", the man admits. "They just lost the responsibility for the Red John case."

"About time", Cho states.

"So, the responsibility has been retransferred to us?" Lisbon asks.

"Oh, Lisbon, you are such an optimist", he mutters and leans back.

Wainwright hesitates. "Not quite. High command has decided to involve the CIA."

"The CIA?" Rigsby asks. "Since when is the CIA responsible for serial killers?"

"They aren't. But since the FBI is out of the game, for obvious reasons…"

"Shooting at you?" he asks and sounds amused. He earns another angry glance from Lisbon and van Pelt.

"No", Wainwright says, his tone aloof. "Because rumor has it Red John has infiltrated them. And since there aren't many agencies left to be involved and Homeland security is basically totally overworked, the winner is the CIA. They will dispatch an agent who is supposed to work with us on the Red John case and on every other case we work at in the meantime."

"Wow. They really go for intervention", Rigsby mutters.

"Great", he says ironically. "We get a new team member who has been trained to lie and conceal whenever it's adequate. That will be really helpful."

"I'm not happy with this, either", Wainwright says. "But at least, we'll be in command. The CIA granted me full authority."

"Oh, that changes everything, of course", he adds.

"Jane, this behaviour isn't getting us anywhere", Wainwright says. "Look, I know you want to interrogate Lorelei, but…"

"Ah, no, no, it's fine. She won't talk to anyone except me, anyway. Let them have her. We'll just have to wait for their call for help."

"I'm glad you see it this way. Now, I've got to report to Bertram and you all ought to take some rest. It's been a rough day. For all of us". Wainwright says.

He claps his hands and rises from the couch. "Truer words were never spoken. Anyone here who wants to join me for the delicious linguine? No? Alright, see you tomorrow." He walks out of the office, whistling, aware of the stares behind his back.

* * *

_Washington D.C., Central Intelligence Agency_

Special agent Ava Miller sits in a chair in the old-fashioned office of her superior, eyes fixed on a photograph of an ancient train, while he rants and exclaims and sends his blood pressure soaring.

She doesn't really pay attention to it. It's not like she sits there for the first time in her life and it's not like she doesn't know she has just knocked another nail into her coffin.

"Agent Miller, are you even listening to me?" he yells.

She sighs and turns her head. "Yes, sir."

"Now tell me, haven't I been clear enough? Haven't I told you three times to remain at your position and not to storm the warehouse like a freaking amazon?"

"You have, sir."

"You admit, then, that you have disobeyed my orders on purpose?"

"Well, it worked out, didn't it?" she asks bluntly and looks into his eyes.

For a second, the man just stares at her and she fears he might really suffer a heart attack, because his face is flashed with red and his knuckles shine white.

"It worked out?" he asks aloud. "The press is all over us! The Director is raving! Tell me, does this sound like it worked out to you?"

"No, sir."

"You are lucky, very lucky the ambassador survived and came to your defense. Otherwise, you wouldn't even be sitting here."

"I'll make sure I'll add the ambassador to my lists of Christmas card addressees. Sir."

"You think this is funny, don't you?" he asks.

"I think it is fascinating how the Director and everybody else jumps to attention as soon as the press is involved. Sir."

"That's what people call cooperation, agent Miller", he snaps. "You might want to look up the meaning."

"Thanks, I know the meaning", she replies casually.

"Really? I'm not so sure about it. The director isn't, either", he says. "That's why we have decided to award you with another lesson in it."

She eyes him closely. "And that means?"

"Have you ever heard about Red John?"

"The serial killer? Yeah. You know, I read newspapers", she says ironically.

"Great. The responsibility for the case used to be in the hands of the FBI, but they have fucked up this afternoon. It's been retransferred to the CBI, under the condition that we dispatch one of our agents to aid the investigation. And every other case the CBI works on until they get their hands on Red John. And now guess who's the lucky one going to Sacramento."

Silence falls between them for a second. _He must be joking. _She eyes him closely, but his face is stern and... amused.

"You're not serious", she hisses.

"Oh, I assure you, I'm dead serious."

"I'm not a profiler! I don't have any idea how to investigate murders! Damn it, you can't do that!" she exclaims.

"Life is for learning, agent Miller", he says, his tone sickly sweet. "Besides, you'll surely get the chance to do what you do best. Shoot and kill. Now, pack your bags. You'll report to Agent Wainwright tomorrow morning, at 9:00 o'clock, at the CBI headquarter. For the time of the dispatch, he'll be your direct supervisor. Oh, and try not to shoot him. We don't want to copy the FBI."

She stares at him, eyes glaring with anger. "Yes, sir", she snaps and rises from the chair.

"Agent Miller", he says just as she turns for the door. "Don't mess this up, or you'll lose your badge. Am I clear on that?"

She clenches her teeth and nods her head.

"Good. Now get out of my office."

**A/N: I'm not quite sure where this will lead. Anyway, I love reviews. Tell me what you think, even if you think it sucks. **


	2. Prelude

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, the favs and the follows. Really made my day (not mentioning it's easier to continue when you find somebody approves what you're writing).

**Chapter Two: Prelude**

_CBI headquarter, day 2_**  
**

Teresa Lisbon has hardly slept the last night and her fight against the coffee machine doesn't really improve her mood. She turns it off, turns it on again and frowns at the machine as she pushes the button. As if her glare could impress the technical device. As if her glare could impress anybody these days.

Lorelei Martins, for example, just reacted with a dreamy, sheepishly smile.

_We were lovers. _

Now, what was she supposed to reply to that?

Congratulations?

The woman is completely out of her mind. Mad. A lunatic. What the hell did she expect? That she'd loose her temper, just because Jane hid something from her again?

Surely not. She's used to it. He always does this, always, though he knows, he must know, she would do everything for him… Damn, she let him compare her head to a fucking football! She let him shoot her! Theoretically, yes, but still...

_I love you._

She knows how he meant it. Of course she knows it.

_I care for you, Teresa, thank you Teresa, you're the only one I trust… _

Why couldn't he leave it by saying something like that? God damn it, the word love should not be used as a part of a trick…

A trick they got out just a little bit too easy, yesterday. Another reason she couldn't sleep.

She doubts Wainwright will leave it just like that, as if they hadn't outsmarted him once again, as if their actions hadn't put him in danger… **She** wouldn't leave it by that. No way.

The coffee is ready. She takes the cup and smells at it, grimaces, then empties the brown liquid into the sink.

"Shit", she swears, but actually, it's not directed at the coffee machine. Not only.

"Still angry, huh?" a familiar voice asks and she swirls around.

"Damn it, Jane!" she curses. "How many times did I tell you not to sneak up on me?"

He awards her with a patronizing smile and for the blink of an eye, she feels quite tempted to just hit him in the face… but of course, she doesn't. She's a special agent. She's stoic. Solid. Reasonable.

"Would you like a cup of tea? Since the coffee machine is obviously broken", he says carelessly and opens the cupboard, scans the various brands of tea.

"Tea is not a substitute for coffee. Not in the morning", she growls and leans against the sink, arms folded before her chest.

She can feel his eyes linger on her as he fills the kettle with water.

"Something else is bothering you, is it?"

"No. I'm perfectly alright", she replies without looking at him.

"Oh, Lisbon, you're such a weak liar", he says and grins. "Just spill it. Will make you feel better."

"Yeah. Wish you'd follow your own advice", she mumbles. Gladly, he has already turned on the kettle and its rattling sound drowns her last sentence.

He turns it off and fills the tea cup with the hot water. "Sorry. What did you say?" he asks and stirs his tea.

She takes a deep breath and unfolds her arms. "I'm still thinking about yesterday", she says and tries to keep her intonation matter-of-factly.

He raises an eyebrow. "Yesterday is done and gone, Lisbon."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we don't need to evaluate the events."

"Evaluate?" he asks and raises an eyebrow. "I think you spent too much time with Wainwright's management seminars."

"This is serious, Jane! Informants inside the FBI, inside the CBI… And where else? The oval office?"

He shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip of his tea. "Possible."

"It's like we're fighting against windmills!"

"Who's Don Quixote?" he asks calmly.

"What?"

"Who's Don Quixote? You? That would mean I'm Sancho Panza… And who's Rocinante?"

"This isn't funny!"

"Easy, Lisbon. You're forgetting we still got Lorelei Martins."

"Yeah, only you're forgetting this woman is just stark-mad."

"She's not. She's just completely dependent to Red John. She can't live without his guidance. And I think this will turn out to our advantage. If we can persuade her that we can help her to reconnect with him, she will…"

"And how shall we persuade her? We aren't even allowed to talk to her", she states.

"Ah, I'm sure Wainwright can put a slant on that. His discipline should really pay off", he says.

"You think he's going to help us after yesterday?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Why not? I didn't hear him complain."

"Yes, because he's trying to keep up appearance. God, you know him."

"Yeah. And he's always trying just a little bit too hard. Pity."

"Still, you could try to be more… friendly to him. He wanted to offer you his help, even though you said all these nasty things about him – and no, no, don't even try to contradict, it's been nasty."

"He wanted to admit me to a mental hospital, huh? He's fond of them."

"It's the thought that counts, isn't it?"

"If you say so."

"Anyway, I don't think he'll let us off the hook so easily. I'm sure there'll be consequences…" she says, but he interrupts her quickly.

"Like what? More management seminars?"

"Do you want an invitation for the next one?" a calm voice asks.

She looks up, just to see Wainwright standing in the kitchen.

"Morning, boss", she says quickly, while Jane just leaves it with a careless: "Hey."

His eyes linger on Jane for a second, before he focuses on her. "No coffee, agent Lisbon?"

"The machine is broken", she replies.

"I offered her a cup of tea, but she refused. Would you like one?" Jane asks, hand already on the cupboard.

"No. No, thank you", the man replies and hesitates. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you, if you have a second…"

"Sure, boss", she says and forces her lips to curl into a small smile.

"Good", he says and turns around.

She shots Jane a glance. "Told you", she hisses as they both follow up.

"Lisbon, Lisbon. It seems you're starting to develop psychic powers", he mutters as they enter the office.

She resists the urge to roll her eyes and closes the door.

"Please, take a seat", Wainwright says.

Slowly, she sits down on the couch and folds her hands, while Jane leans against the windowsill and takes another sip of his tea. He's calm personified. Her eyes travel back to her superior, who obviously attempts to copy this impression, only it looks like a masquerade to her. Yet, he doesn't seem too pissed, either. If he was Minelli, the whole building would tremble under his shouts. And she doesn't even dare to imagine Hightower's reaction.

Wainwright's voice is calm and controlled as he speaks. "You tricked me. Again."

She hesitates, counts to three before she replies. "Sir, we…"

"Yes, we tricked you", Jane admits.

"Rigsby's death", Wainwright says and looks at her. "Your reluctance." His eyes travel over to Jane. "Your departure…"

"All part of the trick. Including me calling you a mama's boy. I mean, you have issues with your dad, of course, but…"

"Jane!" she hisses. Her new infinite loop. Hissing his name.

"Okay, I'll shut up", he says and wraps his fingers around the cup.

Wainwright shakes his head. "I've granted you a lot of freedom. A lot. I let you follow your… unusual methods with Henry Tibbs and I said nothing as you covered up Doc Dugan's death. I thought it would add up. I thought it would show you I was serious about… trust. But obviously, it didn't work out as I hoped."

"Sir, if we had known Red John would try to abduct you…"

"That's not the point, agent Lisbon. The point is that we have to trust each other if we want to catch Red John. It's bad enough we cannot trust anybody else, but how shall we catch him if we can't even work together? If we allow secrets to bend us apart?"

She sits silently and hopes and fears Jane will reply to this. After all, he's the one who invents all these cloak and dagger maneuvers, so why should she try to explain it? It's time he takes some responsibility and says something, something useful… Only he doesn't. He doesn't say a single word.

"Well", Wainwright continues. "Any… suggestions how we shall fix this?"

"Sir, it's really not like that…" she starts, but doesn't know how to continue, because she doesn't know how it is. Maybe they really don't trust him. Maybe they just didn't take him… serious. She looks at Jane, the plea written all over her face, but he just shrugs his shoulders.

"You're the boss", he says. "I'm sure you've already thought about it and found a solution."

"Actually, I have", Wainwright replies and pauses. His eyes focus back on her and somehow, she senses she's not going to like what he's about to say.

"I have decided that, from now on, I will take a more active part in your investigations", he continues. "Accompany you to crime scenes. Help with the interrogations…"

"Really?" she asks. He raises an eyebrow. "I mean, it's just… that's actually rather unusual. Agent Minelli and agent Hightower never participated in the cases like this…"

"Not mentioning it will reduce the time for your management seminars", Jane cuts in.

Lisbon stars at him, eyes wide as the moon, but Wainwright just grins wryly.

"They can wait. For now, I think it is more important we build trust in our unit. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, sir", she says. "I was just saying that…"

"Good", the man interrupts her. "Inform me when we get a new case." He looks at them. "You can leave."

"Thank you, sir", she says, rises and walks out of his office.

"Looks like someone's keeping a sharp eye on us now, Lisbon. And it's not the CIA", Jane says, sounding quite amused, as they walk back to their office.

"Right now, I'd prefer the CIA", she mutters.

* * *

Agent Wainwright leans back in his chair and tosses the pen over the desk. He knows agent Lisbon isn't pleased by the thought of him mingling into her work and he doubts the rest of the team is, either. He knows what they think about him, what they thought about him ever since he got the position. He's got no field experience. They believe he'll be more of a hindrance than a help. Yet, it seems to him as the only possibility to … connect to them. To avoid any events like yesterday. The strategy he has used in the beginning, the laissez-faire attitude, the understanding, didn't get him anywhere.

Except in Red John's limousine.

He loosens his tie and takes a deep breath. The shots agent Darcy has fired, the shots that have missed him by sheer luck, are memorized in his mind and though he has tried to simply shake it off, he can still feel the fear. And the anger related to it. Anger because he let them abduct him in first place, anger because he can't remember a single bit about it, anger because he hasn't been able to do anything about Red John's escape, anger because he is not supposed to… fear. A lesson he has never really learnt, though his father has given his best to hammer it into his head.

His father… How the hell did Jane know? How the hell is this man able to see through everybody, find everybody's weakness? And why the hell doesn't he resists to push the buttons?

Sure, it's been only a trick, it's probably been nothing personal at all, but nevertheless, he knows the man will do it again, if the circumstances require it. He needs to keep his distance, only this will be a lot harder now. Now that he has decided to join the investigations.

Unless Jane directs his attention to somebody else, somebody…

A knock on the door interrupts him in his thoughts. He sits up and adjusts his tie. "Come in."

The door opens and his eyes meet a pair of light grey, center of a female face with high cheekbones and full lips. Caramel blonde hair, probably painted, is bound back to an ordinary ponytail. The woman is tall and slender, dressed rather casually, in a pair of dark blue jeans and a black trench coat. Nevertheless, beneath the nonchalant air she radiates, her expression appears… formal. Distant.

He rises and quickly searches through the latest cases, tries to remember if she is a witness, or a member of a family, but he cannot make a connection.

"Can I help you?" he asks.

"I hope so", she replies, her tone casual. "I was told to see you."

He blinks with irritation. "I am sorry, I don't know…"

"Special agent Ava Miller. CIA", she says calmly.

For a second, he just stares at her, then steps forward and holds out his hand.

"Agent Miller, of course. Please excuse me. Special agent Luther Wainwright."

She takes his hand and shakes it shortly. Her skin is warm, but not sweaty, the grip tight. She seems rather young, maybe around his age, but well, he surely isn't the right person to judge somebody by age.

"You expected a man, didn't you?" she asks and there's a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Well…er… yes. I mean, the CIA didn't mention a lot in the dispatch file…"

"I am sorry for the misunderstanding. The secretiveness even rubs off on administration matters."

The amused tone in her voice has disappeared, nevertheless, he decides to reply with a smile.

"No trouble at all. Please, take a seat", he says and waves at the chairs in front of his desk.

The woman sits down and crosses her legs.

"Would you like something to drink?" he adds. "Our coffee machine is broken, but I can get you a tea or water…"

"No, thank you", she replies.

He strokes over his tie, then sits down as well, but resists the urge to follow her lead and cross his legs. Something about her body tensions seems almost militarily, so he sits up straight, hands folded on the desk.

"So, Red John", he starts.

Slowly, the woman nods her head. "Red John."

"Unusual, huh? The CIA bothering with a serial killer?"

"Well, if you disregard arms dealers, drug lords and terrorists, then you're right. Very unusual", she says.

He looks at her, but finds her grey eyes solid as stones. The flaw in her features. A nice blue or green would have given her looks a certain… harmony. The grey is just too much of a contrast.

He clears his throat and, despite his intent, leans back in the chair. "Well, I would give you our files on Red John, but I fear the FBI hasn't returned them yet, so…"

"Oh, don't bother. I've read everything the CIA runs on Red John in the plane."

His eyes shine with surprise. "The CIA runs files on Red John?"

"The CIA runs files on almost everything", she states calmly. "We like to be prepared."

"Right… er… So, you've got experiences in homicide cases, as well?" he asks.

"No. Not really. I admit, most of my… cases turn out as homicide, but well, usually I pull the trigger, so I guess that doesn't count, does it?"

For a second, he is sure she's joking, but neither her eyes nor lips confirm it.

"No. No, I guess not", he says hesitatingly. "But well, I'm sure special agent Lisbon and her team will be able to… teach you a lot about it. Speaking of it, I think I should introduce you to them", he says and rises.

"Of course", she says and follows him to the large office next door. Cho, Rigsby and van Pelt are already sitting on their desks, Jane on the couch and Lisbon stands some meters away, her hand wrapped around a coffee cup he recognizes as one from the shop right over the street.

"Good morning, everybody", he says. "This is special agent Ava Miller, from the CIA."

Lisbon puts down the cup and steps forward immediately. "Hi. Teresa Lisbon", she says and shakes her hand.

"Agent Lisbon is in charge of this unit", he explains.

"Pleasure to meet you", the woman replies.

He waits until Cho, Rigsby and van Pelt have introduced themselves, then focuses his eyes on Jane.

"And this is…" he starts, but the other man rises quickly and steps forward.

"Patrick Jane. Hi", he says with one of his most charming smiles. He takes her hand and eyes her closely. "You're cute. In a belligerent way, of course."

The woman raises an eyebrow. "Thank you", she says and wants to remove her hand, but he wraps his fingers around her wrist.

"Look at me", Jane says. "Your first name is Ava?"

"Yes", she replies and he realizes, surprisingly to his content, that she sounds a little bit irritated.

"Truth. Good. Now, please say you're looking forward to our cooperation."

"Jane", Lisbon says with a warning undertone.

"I'm… looking forward to our cooperation", the woman says.

"Hm. Just as I thought. A lie", Jane states. "Now, say it again, but this time, lie as the CIA has told you to. Come on, do your best."

"Jane, I think this is enough", he finally interferes, but to his astonishment, agent Miller obliges.

"I'm looking forward to our cooperation", she repeats. Her intonation hasn't changed a bit, yet Jane awards her with another smile.

"Just as I thought. A perfect liar", he says and lets go off her hand. "Would you mind if I hypnotized you? Just to make sure you're not one of Red John's laborers."

"Yes, I would", she says.

"Pity. Well, would have been futile anyway, probably."

The woman turns and focuses his eyes on him. "Is this the normal procedure at the CBI?" she asks.

"Well, we tightened up the precaution measures since the last agent from another agency attempted to shoot me", he replies half-jokingly.

"Oh yes, I heard about that. Well, agent Wainwright, let me assure you: if I had aimed at you, it wouldn't have ended as an attempt."

"And she's funny", Jane says as he walks back over to the couch and sits down.

For a moment, the whole room is quiet. Her eyes still linger on him and he clears his throat. "Well, agent Lisbon, why don't you brief agent Miller on the situation with Red John? I have to call the FBI to make sure they return our files."

"Yes, sir", Lisbon says quickly. "Agent Miller, if you'd follow me…"

He watches them disappear into Lisbon's office, then turns around and attempts to return to his own, as Jane calls out:

"Hey, Luther. Send Darcy my regards, will you?"

He stops, only for a second, and Rigsby and Cho rise from their chairs, probably thinking he will lose his temper again, but of course he's not going to give Jane this satisfaction. So, instead of turning around, he simply walks on. He will not show any weaknesses to Jane. Never again.

**I admit it. I write faster when I get reviews. I think everyone does. Feel free to tell me what you think, even if you think it's all rubbish. Anyway, I think we should start with a little "case work" in the next chapter. And maybe some van Pelt/Rigsby. Hm, guess I have to get rid of Sarah, in the near future…**


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